


Dammit Barton! - The Mustache Vendetta

by pippen2112



Series: Dammit Barton Series [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint fucks with everyone's heads, Crack-ish, Gen, Mustaches, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Vendettas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has a tick that every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent knows about.  Oh yes, everyone knows about it and they exploit it to the fullest.  When the Avengers find out about it (Clint would swear they all look subtly in Natasha’s direction whenever it comes up, but honestly, he’s not nearly bat-shit crazy enough to bring it up around her), they seem to aggravate him without mercy.</p>
<p>Clint hates mustaches,  Tony is an asshole, and all S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel want to see the latter punched in the face</p>
<p>NEW SNEAK PEAK TO DAMMIT BARTON! - A MERRY BAND OF MASTURBATORS (end notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dammit Barton! - The Mustache Vendetta

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Clint Barton versus Phil Coulson's No Good Very Bad Evil Fuzzy Wuzzy Mustache of Doom by kat8cha (http://archiveofourown.org/works/324652). I just sorta took the idea and ran with it.

DAMMIT BARTON – The Mustache Vendetta

 

Clint Barton has a tick that every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent knows about.  Oh yes, everyone knows about it and they exploit it to the fullest.  When the Avengers find out about it (Clint would swear they all look subtly in Natasha’s direction whenever it comes up, but honestly, he’s not nearly bat-shit crazy enough to bring it up around her), they seem to aggravate him without mercy.

“Barton hates facial hair?” Bruce questions in the middle of high stakes poker while said archer is out on a mission. 

The rest of the team--in various states of inebriation and giddy excitement--lean in around Natasha as she elaborates.  “I’ve never gotten him to admit it, but every time a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with facial hair works with Barton, it’s been shaved or waxed off by the end of the op.”

“I do not understand,” Thor replies, throwing down his cards.  “Facial hair is a badge of a warrior’s pride and prowess.  Why would the Hawk hate such a thing?”

“Maybe he can’t grow a beard,” Steve suggests offhandedly, hoping that will quiet everyone down.

It doesn’t.  Instead it makes Thor and Tony guffaw and practically fall out of their seats.  Bruce rolls his eyes at the outburst, and Natasha, well Natasha doesn’t look much more than apathetic, so there’s no telling.

“Oh that is just too good!” Tony cries at the end of a long laugh.  “Okay, new plan.  No one shaves til Barton gets back, and the last person surviving with facial hair wins bragging rights for a whole year.”

“I don’t see how that’s a good plan,” Steve replies sharply.

Tony pauses for a moment to think it over.  “New stakes.  Last man standing gets to punch me in the face as hard as they can.”

Everyone agrees.  Natasha tries to get in, stating that women can grow facial hair too, but the men decide that would be an unfair fight, because everyone, _everyone_ , is scared of Natasha.

By the time Barton gets back, word of the wager has spread through all of S.H.I.E.L.D.  Now, everyone is donning beards given the faint hope of punching Tony Stark in the jaw.  Best.  Incentive.  Ever.

 

**Coulson**

Coulson should have known better.  Honestly, he should have remembered what happened when he first recruited Barton and how the archer once exploded an arrow near enough to his face to singe off his furry face wig. Everyone involved had assumed it was an accident because, in all fairness, too many factors lined up too perfectly for it to have been a plan.  Once Barton’s vendetta became well-known though, Coulson should have put two and two together.

Instead, he threw caution to the wind, joined with the Avengers in their attempts to antagonize Clint with an excess of facial hair, and Coulson’s bushy brown lip rug reemerged after a ten year vacation.

Coulson should have known better.

Instead, he wakes up one morning after falling asleep in his office, lying in a puddle of his own drool.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Coulson’s hands trail down his face until he notices a peculiar smoothness to the right side of his face and a sticky note pressed to his forehead.

Coulson takes the note from his head and reads it quickly.  “You were warned” is scribbled there in Barton’s pointy script.  He finds a mirror at the back of a drawer and shudders when he sees the state of his face.

The right half of his face is shaved smooth.  The left half still bears half his mustache.

“Dammit Barton,” he hisses under his breath.

In the air ducts above, Barton grins, very pleased with his work.  Really, Coulson should have expected as much.

 

**Bruce**

“So, do you just not grow facial hair or something?” Barton asks.

Bruce starts at the question for numerous reasons, the most predominant of which is that he simply didn’t hear his enter the lab.  That and the fact that the entire legal department was mysteriously dosed with some experimental compound and woke up with freshly shaved faces and threats of bodily harm plastered on the walls in purple paint.

At the moment, Barton seems at ease.  That doesn’t entirely surprise Bruce.  Apart from Natasha, Bruce is the Avenger with the least facial hair, and by least, he means practically none.  His hair grows in patches across his face and its honestly more disheartening than anything else, so he keeps himself shaved.

“Or something,” Bruce replies before turning back to his research.

Behind him, Barton makes a small sound of understanding.  When Bruce glances back over his shoulder, Barton’s has disappeared.

When he wakes up the next morning, having fallen asleep at the computer for the third time that week, Bruce spies his reflection.  There’s a bright white fake mustache stuck to his upper lip. 

As if on cue, Barton swings down from the ceiling, rips the faux-stache from Bruce’s face, and swings back up into the ceiling.

Bruce can’t bring himself to respond.  He’s still too tired to fully comprehend what just happened.  He leans his head down and softly murmurs “Dammit Barton,” before nodding off.

 

**Thor**

Natasha sidles up to Barton during sparring practice.  Sure, she’s the tiniest bit upset that she won’t actually get a justified reason to slug Tony Asshole-Is-My-Name-o Stark, but of the people still in the running, she think there are good odds of someone breaking his nose.  So far, Steve and Thor are still in the runnings, as well as several of the scarier field agents.  Though given Thor’s attitude about the whole thing, Natasha’s quite surprise that Barton hasn’t taken him out just to knock the demigod’s ego down a peg or two.  She says as much as they watch Thor and Steve spar.

“Oh, I’ve thought about it,” Barton states as he starts unwrapping his hands.  “I just haven’t figured that one out yet.”

Natasha quirks a brow at him skeptically.  Barton mirrors the expression.

“When was the last time you successfully ruffied a god, ‘Tasah?” Clint asks.  “Cause if you have any pointers, I’d gladly take them.”

Natasha thinks that one over for a moment and quietly says, “You wouldn’t need to drug him if you’re quiet enough.  He sleeps like death.  The fire alarm didn’t wake him up that one time Stark almost blew up his lab.”

Clint nods noncommittally.  Still, he doesn’t look convinced of the idea.  Natasha scoffs.  “I’ll do it then, if you’re gonna be such a baby about it.”

Barton almost gets another word out, but Natasha picks up her gym bag and heads back to her room.  She has some sneaking to prepare for.

That night, well after every member of the team has fallen asleep, Natasha slips through the shadows toward Thor’s room.  The door opens silently, and she tiptoes inside, around the piles and piles of junk the demigod has accumulated toward the bed.  Thor’s snores echo in the room, but he doesn’t stir when she twice makes noise.

Natasha takes a razor in one hand and a can of shaving cream in the other and prepares to get to work when she notices something is off.  She doesn’t notice it at first in the darkness, but when she starts looking for it, the answer presents itself.

Thor’s beardless.  His chin and cheeks are smooth.  On the headboard, Natasha spies a purple sticky note with the phrase “payback’s a bitch” written clearly on it.

Natasha doesn’t scream, though almost anyone would.  Instead, she hisses “Dammit Barton,” before creeping back out of the room.

The next morning, the team is awakened by the demigod’s booming voice.  “DAMMIT BARTON!”

 

**Steve**

Steve’s honestly not sure why he hasn’t shaved yet.  This is the longest he’s gone in years without shaving and frankly, it’s starting to itch like nobody’s business.   He’s also surprised that Barton hasn’t taken a razor to the blonde fuzz that currently covers his cheeks in the middle of the night, but then again, Steve’s stopped trying to predict what Barton will do next. 

When Steve wakes up one morning, he finds a cheap purple razor and a can of shaving cream on his bathroom counter.

When Steve makes his breakfast, he finds an identical razor and can of shaving cream by the kitchen sink.

When Steve finishes in the rec room, he finds yet another razor and can in his gym bag.

This pattern persists for three days.  Each time he finds the shaving items in progressively weirder locations: the oven, the toilet tank, his sock drawer, the Captain America lunchbox Tony gave him as a gag.  All this time, Steve’s seen neither hide nor hair of Barton, which only makes him feel like he’s not looking hard enough.  Or that he’s constantly being watched.  Neither of which are fun thoughts.

When Steve gets into bed that night and finds another damned purple razor and can of shaving cream, it’s the last straw.  In a fury, he throws back the covers, marches into the bathroom and shaves every last hair from his face.  Even though he logically knows it’s exactly what Barton wants, the act feels like nine kinds of rebellion and it sends a sharp thrill down his spine.

Steve returns to his bedroom beard-free, and finds a purple sticky note on his pillow.  He reads it quickly and his face drains of color.  “Thanks for shaving, Cap, but now who’s gonna knock the daylights out of Stark?”

Shit.  Steve hadn’t thought of that.  “Dammit Barton,” he utters.

 

**Tony**

First off, not one member of S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to see Tony Stark win this competition and thus avoid getting punched in the face. Because Tony’s a Grade A Asshole and everyone wants to knock him from his not-so-high horse. 

Second off, everyone hates Tony’s face wig.  It’s just so pretentiously extravagant and thoroughly unnecessary that Bruce is convinced that it’s the source of Tony’s power.

Luckily, the plan is not hard to sell to the other Avengers, particularly given Tony’s constant bragging that he’s going to win their competition.  The one who proves most difficult to sell the idea to is actually Thor, but mostly because he’s still mourning the loss of his beard (which apparently the demigod named Wilton and buried an empty casket in said beard’s memory).  When the rest of the team assures him that Tony’s facial hair will suffer the same fate, Thor gets on board with the plan.

The team waits until Tony passes out in his lab at three in the morning before putting the plan in action.  Steve and Thor hold Tony back in his seat, a move that shakes the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist awake.

“What the—“ he starts but cuts himself off as he sees the members of his team standing around him, the strongest two holding him down.  “Oh, hey guys.  What’re we up to tonight?”

Natasha nods at Bruce, and he steps forward wielding a can of shaving cream like a flamethrower. 

“Oh, shaving party?” Tony asks.  “That’s always fun.  Didn’t know it was a cross-gender thing, but I guess we can do it together.  I mean, any chance to see ‘Tasha without her pants on, right?”

No one comments.  Bruce smears shaving cream across Tony’s face regardless of the fact that he keeps talking and is now actively struggling against Steve and Thor.  Natasha surveys the scene quickly and quietly commands, “This won’t work in the chair.  Put him on the floor.”

Thor and Steve shift Tony accordingly, and Bruce steps around to hold Tony’s head in place.  In one swift motion, Natasha settles herself on top of Tony’s chest and holds the razor gently between her fingers before leaning forward.  Tony closes his eyes and seemingly accepts defeat.

Suddenly, footsteps sound in the corridor.  Tony’s eyes fly open and he screams quickly for help.  The other Avengers freeze.  The footsteps hurry along the corridor and pause at the doorway to the lab.  One face looks up in hope, four look up in varying degrees of fear.

Barton stands in the doorway mostly confused by the sight in front of him.  Thor’s pinning Stark’s left side, Steve’s got his right.  Bruce is holding Stark’s thrashing head, and Natasha is settled on top of him brandishing a razor with a wicked look in her eye.

Barton smirks, steps back into the hallway and continues toward his quarters.  Said smirk broadens when a stern “Dammit Barton!” follows him.

 

**Fury**

When he first met Nick Fury, Barton considered trying to remove said facial hair from said face for about 1.7 seconds.  He tried to map out a plan in his mind, considering the various angles and methods of removal.  But then Fury gave Barton Death Glare Number 5, almost as though he could read the archers mind, and Barton promptly decided that the costs of said endeavor far outweighed any hypothetical benefits.

By default, Fury wins the S.H.I.E.L.D.-wide wager.  He punches Stark squarely in the jaw.

Stark remains unconscious for 5 hours, during which time, several unsavory drawings appear on various parts of his body.  Most of them are in permanent marker. 

The Avengers particularly enjoy the messy rendition of facial hair that covers Tony’s upper lip and chin. Natasha is the only one who knows who put it there.  She refuses to say who.

 

**Epilogue**

Clint disappears for another mission and returns a month later looking like Sasquatch. His face is covered with find dirty blonde hairs.  It takes everyone, even Natasha, a double take to recognize him before he disappears into his room to unpack.

“Well,” Bruce says calmly, “I think we can cross ‘Clint can’t grow facial hair’ off the ‘Why the fuck does Clint hate facial hair’ list.”

No one says a word.

**Author's Note:**

> All questions, comments, and suggestions are welcome! Please leave any constructive criticism! Comments make me write more and faster!
> 
>  
> 
> SNEAK PEAK of   
> DAMMIT BARTON – A Merry Band of Masturbators
> 
> The thing about Clint Barton is he’s not actually a pervert. Sure, his puns and innuendos are legends among S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and yes, he is the only person in the known history to make Agent Hill blush (in her defense, she may or may not have been a bit tipsy at the time). But still, for the most part, he’s no more perverted than the average red-blooded American male.
> 
> Depending on who you talk to, Clint Barton is actually incredibly lucky, has impossible timing, believes in not killing the mood, left his cell phone in the freezer…again, or honestly just wanted you to know that Coulson made cookies and Thor is threatening to eat them all. Depending on which of his roommates you’re talking to that is.
> 
> ...
> 
> “You’re O-face looks like a koala taking a massive dump.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Tony does have lovely hands. I don’t blame you for thinking about them.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Did you figure out how to apparate or something? J.K. will not be pleased that its being used to spy on people.”  
> “I prefer to think of it as investigating weird noises coming from the locker room.”  
> Unfortunately, he had a point.
> 
>  
> 
> “Coulson bakes?”
> 
>  
> 
> “You know, I didn’t peg you for a porn-watcher.”  
> “You know, I didn’t peg you as a man who wanted his balls removed.”  
> “Excuse me, I’ve got a debriefing to get to. Happy masturbation!”  
> “Shut it, Barton!”
> 
>  
> 
> DAMMIT BARTON - A Merry Band of Masturbators - Coming soon


End file.
